


Disobeying the Doctors Orders

by gremlinpolice



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Cuddling, F/M, Fluff, Injury, Mining accident, Porn With Plot, Sex in a Sling, Smut, i don't know what i've done here, the farmer gets patched up after a visit to the mines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:47:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26673886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gremlinpolice/pseuds/gremlinpolice
Summary: "Hey, the farmer lives," you register a voice coming your left, probably attached to a body. A hand reaches into your field of vision, pressing two fingers to your pulse-point on your neck. Yep, definitely attached to a body. You blink a few more times, surveying your surroundings, and you don't think Yoba would have a sneeze-etiquette poster on Her receiving room wall. The hand and body make their way to the other side of the room, their back to you as they fiddle with some equipment.The farmer gets injured in the mines and taken to Harvey for a patch job. A friendly dinner invitation turns into something more <3
Relationships: Harvey/Female Player (Stardew Valley)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 166





	Disobeying the Doctors Orders

You hadn't meant to be so close to the bomb when it went off, but your work boots with the soles falling off had a different idea when they got caught in a divot, sending you to the ground. Flat on your face, with only seconds until detonation, you scramble for the barricade of rocks where your supplies will be safe from the blast without you.

Shit.

Blown backward about ten feet, your body hits the wall of the old mineshaft with a sickening thud, and you don't have time to evaluate just how badly your entire skeletal structure is broken before you succumb to the pain, vision going dark and blurry. You hope that someone will feed your chickens after you're gone.

Blinking awake, you're surrounded by a brightness. Heaven? Heaven smelled like bleach, burnt flesh, and this comforting musky scent that you can't quite place.

"Hey, the farmer lives," you register a voice coming your left, probably attached to a body. A hand reaches into your field of vision, pressing two fingers to your pulse-point on your neck. Yep, definitely attached to a body. You blink a few more times, surveying your surroundings, and you don't think Yoba would have a sneeze-etiquette poster on Her receiving room wall. The hand and body make their way to the other side of the room, their back to you as they fiddle with some equipment.

"What the fu-" you start, but your voice quickly falters, rusty from disuse and, probably, actual rust. The hand's body rushes back over to you, gently touching your shoulder and shushing you.

"Just take it easy, you've been through a lot," the body, who was actually Dr. Harvey, soothes, kind green eyes uncommonly cloudy as he surveys the rest of you.

"Maru pulled you out of the mines last night after she heard the dynamite go off. You really shouldn't be indulging Kent, you know, just because he has all this stuff doesn't mean you should use it," Harvey chastises lightly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"At least you went down prepared, though, Maru found you three feet from your backpack, which would have been a lot more helpful if you had been with it," he writes something quickly on his clipboard and all you can do is watch as he makes his way around the makeshift emergency room, thin linen walls separating you from the rest of the patient care wing.

"How's she looking, Doc?" you hear Abigail call from the other side of the partition. Harvey sighs and you wonder how long he's had to deal with her.

"She's going to be fine, Abigail, now please get some rest before your father comes for both of our necks," he scolds, scrubbing his face with his palms. The poor, overworked doctor shuffled through some more paperwork before returning to your bedside, various medical instruments on a tray in his hands.

"Can I ask what happened to her or is that-" you start, voice weak.

"No, it's confidential-" Harvey goes to say, until-

"You've got some pretty cool shit in your pack, farmer. I guess I'll need to start schmoozing up to Kent. You don't think Jodi will mind, right? I mean, he's a dick, but-"

"Abigail, please." Harvey calls over, much more forcefully this time, and Abigail mutters something about _'it was just a cherry bomb,'_ before quieting again. A few years older, you had taken on a sort of big sister/mentor role with Abigail and had taken her down into the mines a couple of times (despite the protests of Pierre and Caroline) where she had completely fallen in love with it. You had to show her a few tricks, mainly involving how to avoid getting killed. Which, obviously, had nearly failed this time.

You can't help but let out a guilty chuckle, it is your fault that the good doctor has to deal with two of the more troublesome cases in town. Now all you needed was to get Sam or Emily blown up and it would be a regular party at the clinic.

Harvey lets out yet another deep sigh before returning his full attention to you. It isn't until now, under his caring watchful gaze, that your body catches up with you.

Everything hurts.

"Give it to me straight, Doc, am I gonna live?" you ask as you try and hide a wince, unsuccessfully, judging from the way Harvey looks at you with those big, sad, green eyes. He really did have nice eyes, even if they were hidden behind those coke-bottle lenses. "Also," you start slowly, looking down at the hospital gown that you're at least seventy percent sure you didn't wear into the mines, "where are my clothes?"

"Miraculously, you've only got a dislocated shoulder that Maru and I took care of while you were out, and some cuts, nothing some stitches won't fix, although you're entire body is going to be bruised for forever probably" he says quietly, pointedly ignoring your second question, "I honestly don't know how you get out of there in one piece, more or less, every time." He sounds bemused as he applies a numbing cream to what feels like a sizable gash above your eyebrow. His fingers are warm and comforting, even through the chalky purple surgical gloves.

"Will it scar?" you ask nervously. You weren't opposed to a scar, it would probably make you look pretty badass, but you would rather it be from something more exciting, like a knife fight with that giant bouncer from Calico Desert.

"Not if you apply this cream to it daily, as well as some light exfoliation once it's healed, no. But don't worry, even if it does, you'll look even cooler."

"Aww, Harvey's thinks the farmer’s cool," Abigail sings from the other side of the sheet, giggling to herself. Harvey rolls his eyes and gets to work.

"You'll be lucky if I don't go over there and give you a matching scar!" You call, trying to stay as still as you can so Harvey can work, while still talking shit. This earns a yelp from Abigail, who promptly shuts up.

The stitches feel like Harvey is pinching your forehead; not unbearably painful, but annoying enough for you to want a distraction. You watch him, his bottom lip between his teeth as he concentrates. With his eyes, his cute lips, his anatomical knowledge, and the fact that he stood six inches taller than any of the other bachelors in Pelican Town (maybe four inches more than Sam) made him a verifiable hunk, as far as Stardew Valley was concerned. Or maybe it was just the delirium.

"So, who put me in this hospital getup?" you ask again— his breathing catches for a moment before his concentration resumes. He did look pretty cute when he got flustered.

"Uh, Maru did while we were checking for damage, she even took your clothes home to wash and brought them back... I think an hour ago now," gesturing to the pile of folded clothes on the chair next to you. He tried to sound blasé, he really did, but he was a real-life doctor who was flustered by seeing you naked. Maybe you were doing something right.

You press on, "Good, because that was my favorite pair of overalls and I would be pretty pissed if you had squirreled them away to live out some weird fantasy." You're teasing, and he knows that, but he still shoots you a glare, needle still in your forehead.

"Well, that's hardly professional, and I'll have you know that I your jeans are never present in my fantasies," he says lowly, eyes widening with the realization of what he had just said aloud. You blink in surprise, a knowing smile beginning to play on your lips. So Harv's got fantasies, huh? Maybe, just maybe, if you play your cards right, he'd share them with you.

He squeezes his eyes shut tight, exhaling deeply through his nose, "What I mean is that this is a completely inappropriate conversation to be having with a patient, much less with another patient within earshot—"

"I'm not listening!" Abigail calls, breaking into a fit of giggles.

"and I will not be discussing it further at this point," he finishes rigidly, a speech that sounds well-rehearsed, and more than a little forced. He's right though, this isn't the time nor place.

You're quiet for a moment, choosing your words carefully as to not make him more nervous as he trims the stitches, placing the needle back on the tray and swapping it for a cotton pad soaked in an antiseptic. He steals glances at you as he cleans up his work, huffing out a breath in frustration. Frustration. You had no idea that you had this effect on him, but you would tell him that later, maybe over coffee at the farmhouse, maybe over some iridium wine.

"Well then maybe we can discuss it later, Doctor," you say quietly, not wanting Abigail to overhear. The Stardew Valley rumor mill was vicious, and you wanted to do your best to spare Harvey and his reputation.

Harvey is still, his back turned, removing his gloves and washing his hands at the small sink on the counter.

"Come down to the farm this evening, I'll make dinner. You look tense, you need a break," your voice is barely above a whisper, but the hoarseness is not from disuse anymore, and if Harvey didn't know any better, he would think you were trying to sound sultry.

He turns to face you abruptly, shoulders tense and eyes wide. He holds two small cups, one with painkillers and one with water in his hands, his impossibly large hands, "I'll be back with you shortly, in the meantime, take this and try to relax." His professional voice is edged with a touch of anxiety as he sets the two cups next to you, and he moves to the other side of the partition, where Abigail is surely stifling giggles.

You do as you're told, swallowing the pills down and staring up at the clinic's ceiling, the fluorescent light boring holes in your vision. Harvey was sweet, he was a doctor, and it was really hot when he was trying to stay in control. You would be lying to yourself if you hadn't noticed his touches lingering on your skin during visits, checking your pulse for a few seconds longer than necessary, placing a hand on your shoulder while he held the stethoscope to your chest. You would be lying to yourself if you had never let your mind wander during those visits, savoring each touch and saving them for later, when you could imagine his hands everywhere, holding you, bringing you to the edge.

He was a good doctor, and the only one for miles; it didn't seem fair that he had to eschew romantic attachments for the sake of his career. The poor man was all alone in his little apartment with his model planes and Lean Cuisines; he cared for everyone in the valley, including you-- he should get someone to take care of him, too.

"-and if you end up back here with more than a paper cut, I won't hesitate to tell your father exactly where all those bumps on your head come from. The only reason I don't tell him now is that I think he would actually go into cardiac arrest if he found out that you spent all your time messing about around that damn tower," he scolds Abigail as she leaves the clinic, the sternness of his voice cancelled out by the fact that they both knew that his threats were empty, "Now go, and tell your mother thank you for the tea for me, please."

Abigail pushes back the curtain and enters your space, grimacing as she surveys you, and gives you a wink. She's got some bandages on her fingers, most likely from setting off one of your cherry bombs in the mines and you laugh— Harvey made it sound like she was on deaths door by the way he spoke to her.

"Oh come on, Doc, you know you love my business," she teases, shooting a look at the two of you, "have fun with your _fantasies_." You roll your eyes, and she lets herself out, humming all the way.

The door slams shut, and Harvey rubs his eyes-- he looks completely exhausted.

"I didn't know you liked tea," you say, fiddling with the hem of your blanket.

Harvey lets out a small laugh, "I don't, not really, but Caroline is kind enough to send me some fresh leaves every once in a while, in the name of neighborly affection. When she starts making me coffee, that's when Pierre will really be in trouble," he jokes, returning to your bedside and examining your new stitches.

"Going for the older ladies, huh Harv? I knew you were the dirty old man about town," you joke, and he shakes his head.

"I'm 36,” he replies, defensively, “and if that makes me an old man, well then poor George must be a zombie."

"But you do have a thing for older women then, right? I knew I couldn't compete..." You sigh dejectedly, letting your last few words toe the line between comedic and serious. He goes still again, writing something down on a clipboard before dropping it and turning back to you.

"So, dinner?" he asks tentatively, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed over his broad chest, doing his best to look aloof.

"If you release me, and if you're up for it," you offer, smiling genuinely, "I make a mean stir fry, and I've got a bottle of starfruit wine saved in the cellar for a rainy day."

He offers you a lopsided smile and nods, "Okay, yeah that does sound nice," he begins tidying up the equipment he used to stitch you back together, dumping it in the sink to be sanitized later.

"Come over around 6," you smile up at him, excited at the prospect of seeing him again, under better circumstances, "So am I free to go?" You sit up, a sharp pain running through your left arm, dulled slightly by the painkillers he had given you.

"Not before we go over some care instructions," he says apologetically, pulling a sling out of a drawer and making his way over to you.

"I've got you to care about me, Doctor, what else could I need?" Your flirtatious attempts earn a light laugh and a shake of the head. He really was cute when he was flustered.

Back at the farmhouse, with instructions to keep your arm in the sling, take painkillers every 6 hours, and no strenuous activities for at least a week, you set to work on dinner. Since you had been home, you had called Shane to let him know that you'd need some extra help next week, with Abigail and Sam on backup if he needed the extra help.

You thought for a moment as you portioned out the vegetables— would Harvey actually show up? You brush away the thought as you finish peeling the carrots, your sling making it a bit of a challenge, but not an impossible one. You debated taking it off completely, but the thought of a disappointed Harvey made you reconsider. Oh well, you could manage.

"Hello?" a voice calls from the door, Harvey. You look at the grandfather clock, which was probably older than your actual grandfather— 5:45. Harvey was early.

"Eager, are we? Well, come on in, dinner's about ready," you say as he makes his way into your living room, a small parcel tucked under his arm, "Whatcha got there, Doc?"

"Oh, um, cookies from Evelyn. She had an appointment today and dropped them off. She gives me a tin every time she comes in, and I really need to stop eating them all myself, I hope you don't mind," he explains, nervously, as if he's worried about offending you with the dessert. You laugh, turning back to the stove.

"I love Granny's cookies as much as the next person, Harvey, the more the merrier. Now would you go down to the cellar and grab a bottle of wine? Any kind you want." He sets the tin of cookies down on the table before heading down to your wine cellar; giving him something to do seems to set him a little more at ease, releases some of his nervous energy. Now what would he have to be nervous about?

With dinner finished, the two of you retired to the couch in front of the fire, a bottle of starfruit wine and the tin of cookies between you as you chatted aimlessly, about his planes, the chickens, the harvest, and when Emily and Clint were finally going to make a move on each other.

"Honestly, how clueless can they be?" you gush with a laugh and a roll of your eyes. Harvey tapped his fingers against his glass of wine, eyes darting all around the room as he chuckled.

"Yeah, it's getting a little painful to watch," he agreed, downing the last few sips of his wine and setting the glass down on the small coffee table in front of you a little too carefully.

The pair of you were silent for a while, enjoying each other’s company, the fire, and the wonderfully warm feeling the wine put in your stomach. You look at Harvey, staring off into the crackling fire, seemingly in thought by the way his eyebrows knit together under the frame of his glasses.

"What are you thinking about, Harvey?" you ask softly, resting your elbow on your thigh, holding the near-empty glass of wine up to your face, studying his expression.

He truly was handsome— thick, curly hair, strong barrel chest, and those gorgeous green eyes. Not to mention how painfully kind he was; if need arose, you were positive that he would take a bullet for any person in Pelican Town. Sure, he was a little older than you were, but he wore his age well, and the way he spoke sometimes made you forget.

"Were you serious, earlier?" he blurts, suddenly turning to face you. He looks mildly panicked, but more curious, raising one eyebrow at you as you think back.

"About what?"

He sighs deeply, leaning back into the couch, "About all of the talk about _fantasizing_ , and not being able to compete, or was that nothing? If I was reading too far into it just-"

"I like you, Harvey, a lot," you cut him off, stopping him from talking himself out of whatever this was, blushing, "I mean, the part about Caroline was a joke, yeah, but," you pause, shifting a little closer to him, watching the way that he hangs on to your every word, "I think you're really cute, you're interesting, and I like being with you. And I'm willing to bet another bottle of wine that you, maybe, like me too." You exhale slowly, ignoring just how painfully middle school your words sounded, reaching out to take his hand. You study him, searching his face for any hint of a reaction, but he's still for a moment, as if he's still processing.

When he does speak, it's barely above a whisper, "Can I kiss you?" he asks, so reverently you could weep. He lifts his hand to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear and you melt into the touch, nodding as you lean towards each other.

He takes his time. Harvey is truly a man of patience, and he kisses like it. He takes your mouth almost maddeningly slow, and you steal a moment to marvel in the fact that such a timid man could be such a confident kisser. He cups your cheek with one hand, the other snaking around your waist and pulling you closer, just for the sake of closeness, no pressure. Your right-hand winds its way into his thick curls, pulling him in closer to you, deeper into the kiss.

His touch is searing, fingers running up and down your back and neck, carefully avoiding your injured shoulder, but still giving you all of the attention that you've been craving for longer than you would care to admit. You whine into his mouth, pulling gently at his hair, and he returns the sound.

"You," he pulls back slightly, panting, resting his forehead to yours, "are amazing." Catching his breath for a moment, he drags his lips softly over your cheek, pressing soft kisses to the corners of your mouth, your nose, forehead, and ghosting over the stitches over your eyebrow.

He moves so slowly, you're not even sure if he intends to take it any farther. Not that you're complaining though, being lavished with attention by such a man isn't something you would trade for anything. But as if reading your mind, he circles his arms around your waist, pulling you gently into his lap, moving his lips from your face down to your neck, his lips and tongue teasing your collarbone, his mustache tickling the sensitive skin there.

"Mm, don't stop," you moan hoarsely, your good arm slung around his neck as you press yourself closer to him, disregarding the soreness you still felt from your accident, trading it for the contact intoxicating you far more than any wine ever could.

Harvey was panting against your neck, one hand palming your breast over your flannel shirt, “Do you mean that?” he asks breathlessly, pulling back to look in your eyes, his own a hazy shade of mossy green.

Your head was fuzzy— how could it not be? But you nodded, “Yeah, Harv, I do,” you press a kiss to his cheek, warm and flushed under your lips, “What do you want?”

He smiles, his head dropping to his chest as he catches his breath before responding, “Whatever you’re willing to give.” You grin, almost wickedly, throwing your denim-clad leg over his lap, straddling him on your couch. His hands— his beautiful, broad hands— went to rest on your ass for a moment, squeezing lightly before traveling upward, under the loose fabric of your shirt, skirting gently around the bruises and scratches that mark your skin from the explosion. Resting your forehead against his as you both catch your breath, you take a moment to admire just how careful he is, how practiced his hands are in not only healing, but comfort.

"As much as I love making out on the couch like a couple of teenagers," you whisper against his lips, "but my back is a little sore, and I promise the bed is far more comfortable." You nip at his earlobe as he nods enthusiastically, letting your roll off of him.

"You know," he says thoughtfully as he settles on top of you, the mattress creaking slightly under your combined weight, "This probably isn’t the most ethical thing I could be doing with a patient.”

"Don't care," you mutter, pressing your lips all over his face, pulling him close.

"But I'm your doctor, in good conscience I can't encourage this kind of-"

"I don't care," you insist, sharper this time, sucking at the hollow of his throat, eliciting a low, hungry groan. To drive your point home, you reach down between your bodies and place your hand on his hardened cock, delighting in his whimpers.

"You make a compelling point," he breaths, pulling back to shuck off his slacks. With your left arm in the sling, you can't exactly help, so you resign yourself to watching him strip, enjoying the show that he doesn't even know he's putting on. He hesitates when he's down to his boxers and the plain white t-shirt he wears under his crisp work button ups. He looks nervous, unsure, and you take some pity on him.

Pushing yourself up to a sitting position, you begin to pull at the snaps on the front of your flannel— not very sexy, but effectively shrugging your right arm out of its sleeve. As you begin fussing with the sling and the left arm, Harvey comes to the rescue; gently removing your arm from the sling before pulling off the sleeve, depositing the arm back in just as tenderly. You hadn't worn a bra, which was just as well because that would have been an extra hassle for the two of you to deal with, and Harvey's breath falters.

You were normally covered in bruises, scratches, and scars from your work on the farm. The damage came with the territory, really, and you weren't about to give that life up for anything. Now, though, naked and vulnerable in front of someone, each knick in your skin felt like a curse, another reason for him to just get up and leave. When Harvey leans in to kiss you, gently tracing each mark, the bad thoughts completely slip your mind.

You blush, "You already saw me naked today, are you surprised?" you tease him, pulling at the sling where it rubs uncomfortably against your bare skin.

"That was hardly for enjoyment, it was a medical examination, I wouldn't- I didn't think of you _that_ way while I was doing my _job_." He sounds mildly disturbed, but you can't help but laugh.

"If you let me take off this sling for a bit, I won't report you," you challenge. The threat is empty, you both know that, but even the thought is enough to send Harvey into a light panic.

"Absolutely not, you need to keep your shoulder stabilized," he reasons, using one hand to comb through his hair, the other guiding you to lay on your back. He hovers over you, almost as if you were on the exam table, until he leans down to mouth at your neck.

"So, if you won't let me take off the sling, will you at least take off your shirt?" you ask, almost innocently, as your fingers play at the hem. He sighs, reluctantly pulling the t-shirt over his head, discarding it on the floor. He looks so exposed.

"Happy now?" His fake annoyance is endearing, and you nod.

"Very much. You're so handsome, Harvey, really," he smiles sweetly down at you, almost relieved, and a shiver runs down your spine, "Now, I won't be able to get out of my jeans without your help, are you up for it?"

"Oh _fuck_!" You moan, and you feel Harvey let out a deep chuckle from where his head is buried between your thighs— glasses discarded on the nightstand long ago, he sucks on your clit while his long fingers grasp at your breast, your back arching into his touch. A sharp pain shoots from your shoulder and down your arm, but the endorphins do their job; everything else feels too good for you to care. You come against his tongue, stuttering his name as you let the bliss overtake you.

He may be a mild-mannered doctor, but there was nothing mild about what he was doing to you. The medical training must have helped, you're sure of it— how else could he know _exactly_ where to touch to make you feel so damn good?

A self-satisfied smirk plays on his lips as he watches you come down, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh as he pulls away, his thumb lazily circling your clit.

"Enough," you rasp when your voice finally returns to you. Pulling gently on his hair, you guide him up to kiss you languidly, relishing in the contact of his skin pressed to yours. You groan into his mouth and grinding against him you can feel how painfully hard he is.

“I have condoms,” he pulls away and whispers, like it’s some secret, “in my pants-pocket. Just give me a second.” Harvey pecks your cheek and goes in search of his pants, discarded carelessly on the floor.

“Were you anticipating this?” You ask, teasing him.

Harvey laughs, pulling out the foil package, “I could _never_ anticipate this,” he rips it open with his teeth, “but I do hate to be caught underprepared.”

You roll your eyes, smiling, turning your body to face him, “Get caught underprepared often?” He laughs again, shaking his head and rolls the condom on. In addition to his other wonderful features, he has a very nice cock.

“Rarely,” he remarks, raising one eyebrow and approaching the bed, “but when the opportunity presents itself-“ he grabs your ankles and pulls you to him, so that he is standing snugly between your legs, making you gasp, “I prefer to be ready.” The smile he gives now is a hint more wild, animalistic. Your eyes are wide with excitement as you lay, bared to him, and breathing heavily. This was a side of Harvey you couldn’t have anticipated, but you are extremely glad that you came prepared.

“Well I for one am ecstatic that you’re ready,” you croon, leaning up, close to him, taking his cock in your hand and stroking him gently, “because so am I.”

In a moment, you line up his cock and he thrusts forward, slowly filling you until his hips are flush against yours. At the sensation, you fall backward onto the bed, pulling him down with you while his feet are still firmly planted on the floor.

“Fuck Harv, you feel so good,” you whine in his ear, wrapping your legs around his waist, trying to pull him deeper inside of you. He hisses at the sensation and draws out of you slowly before pushing back in, testing your resilience.

It doesn’t take Harvey long to find a rhythm that works wonders for both of you, rolling his hips steadily against yours, the pressure on your clit and on your g-spot making you see stars.

You arch into him, your right hand leaving angry-red scratch marks down his back as he moves against you, moaning softly in your ear.

Harvey pulls you closer—if that’s even possible—with one hand on the small of your back and the other cradling the back of your neck and presses urgent kisses onto any skin he can reach. He’s fucking you with a fervor that you’ve never seen in him before, and you’re desperate to see more.

You know you’re getting close, at this point it wouldn’t take much to send you over the edge, and the same is true for Harvey, you suspect, revealed by his erratic breathing and increasingly forceful thrusts. In an effort to hasten the inevitability of your own orgasm, you pull your hand from its place on his shoulder and play with your clit. Getting with the program much quicker than you thought he would, Harvey bats your hand away, pressing his thumb to your clit and rubbing once, twice, three times and you’re coming, shaking against him.

He holds you tightly through your climax, and it isn’t long before he grunts and bucks against you, coming with a strangled shout of your name.

Harvey collapses on top of you, his body falling onto the right half of yours; even in post-orgasmic bliss, he is conscious enough to avoid hurting you. You hold him close to your chest, both sweaty, panting heavily, and card your fingers through his hair. He rises quickly, disposing of the condom, and you whine at the loss of of his body against yours, but he returns soon enough to take you in his arms. 

“You’re spectacular,” Harvey declares sleepily, mouthing at the skin just below your ear.

“And you’re magnificent,” you return, pressing your lips to the top of his head.

Curled up together, like this, you could spend an eternity. While, logically, you knew that was impossible, that didn’t mean you wouldn’t try.

“How does your shoulder feel?” Harvey asks, raising his head to look into your eyes, his own brimming with more than a little concern. You close your eyes and lean your head back, laughing at how painfully sweet this man was. If post-coital haze couldn’t keep Harvey from doing his job, you’re not sure what could.

“Fine, Harv, really. It aches a bit, but it’s fine, I promise,” you sooth, pushing his head back down to lay on your chest, “I’m feeling much, _much_ better.” Your insistence seems to sate him, and he lets out a long exhale.

“When I told you no strenuous activities,” he starts, laughter building in his chest, “I didn’t think that I would _be_ the strenuous activity.” You laugh together for a moment, considering your present situation.

“For what it’s worth, I’m very glad that you were,” you say, yawning. You cup his cheek in your palm, just feeling his skin—stubbly yet soft—beneath yours. He really was magnificent.

“I am too.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! i hope you liked it! i really love harvey! that's it! check me out on tumblr @ gremlinp0lice!


End file.
